


Love Knows no Logic

by ren (renegadewriter)



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: As has the Rest of the Crew, Challenge Prompt Fill, Jazz is an Idiot, M/M, Mirage has had Enough, Prowl is too Logical for his own Good
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-11
Updated: 2014-01-11
Packaged: 2018-01-08 08:51:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1130647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/renegadewriter/pseuds/ren
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He had tried everything. It was only logical that he try something more direct. It was that or face the wrath of the crew. Specially Mirage.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love Knows no Logic

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 2011 livejournal prowlxjazz anniversary challenge.  
> Prompt: Logic

If someone asked how Jazz was like, they would automatically describe him as a carefree, outgoing, ever-happy, hyper, devious mech with every single bot on-board wrapped around his finger.  If someone asked if the saboteur had ever displayed any negative emotions outside the workplace, the answer would be a loud snort followed by the word 'no'. 

Everyone depended on their TIC being the life of the crew, their morale officer, the mech that was always there to talk to and who never let anything get him down; not even being defeated by the Decepticons. Mech always found a positive side to the most horrendous events. 

If someone had told them, that the visored mech was currently sulking, and looking very much like he was a puppy that had been kicked all day long and had had his favorite chew toy burned in front of his eyes; they'd have called Ratchet on the spot. 

As it was, every bot off shift and currently in the rec. room, was witness to the signs of armageddon. 

Jazz sat, his upper body sprawled atop the table, faceplates flat on its surface, and moaning in denial and distress as if someone had dared grab his music files and proceeded to break them all. 

One by one.

In front of him. 

There were many words to describe the scene: bizarre, unusual, impossible, even blasphemy to all they believed in. 

But in truth, there was only one thing that went through each mech's processor. 

Pathetic. 

And sad.

Not to mention embarrassing. 

They all knew the reason of course. And it only served to frustrate them even more. A frustration that grew into full out irritation and annoyance as the reason for this pitiful display remained oblivious, locked in his office, blissfully unaware of the fragile balance in the universe that had been broken because of him. 

Prowl.

The mech that had officially broken Jazz. 

Another whine emerged from the saboteur, earning various optic rolls, frustrated huffs, and disbelieving curses. 

"Oh get over it Jazz!" Someone said. Jazz didn't really care. 

"Yeah you're acting like someone told you your favorite artist is a Decepticon!" 

Ouch. 

That thought didn't bear thinking about. He'd rip his spark out if that happened. 

"Be a mech!" 

His only answered was a louder whine full of denial. 

Mirage sat invisible at the far corner of the rec. room. Watching with disapproving optics, and asking himself how such a pitiful, undignified, hapless mech could be his commanding officer; the best saboteur Cybertron had ever known. Vicious in his fighting skills, merciless in the interrogation room, creative to the point of ridiculous when making plans and carrying them out. 

Disgusted and peeved, the spy made his way over, only making himself visible when he had sat in front of the saboteur, arms crossed, and looking to the whole room as a creator about to reprimand his sparkling. Which, if Mirage was being honest with himself, was exactly how he was going to treat the mech. 

"Jazz. This is ridiculous!" He said drily. "Behave your age!"

"Age is overrated." Came the muffled response. 

Sighing loudly, the spy looked skywards begging Primus for patience and the will to not get his rifle out and shoot the saboteur. It would put _everyone_ out of their misery. 

"So Prowl doesn't return your affections. Get over it!"

Only then did Jazz sit up, expression stricken. "Doesn't return my affection? Mech, he don't even _know_ of my affections! And Ah won't get over it, neva!"

And his faceplates met the table's hard surface with too much enthusiasm. More moans filled with denial leaving him, arms falling limply over the edge of the table. 

Mirage growled in frustration. He sat quietly for a moment, trying to find a way out of this plight without actually having to resort to shooting. He was fairly sure Ratchet wouldn't mind. Specially with how the medic, from the other side of the rec. room, had taken his wrench out and could be seen calculating the distance and force he would have to use to offline the mech. 

Deciding on a direct approach, the spy uncrossed his arms, intertwining his fingers on the table.

"Have you tried everything to get his attention?" He asked diplomatically. 

Again Jazz sat up, servos on the table to hold him up. 

"Course Ah did! Ah flirted with him, tried ta make 'im jealous by letting him catch meh with another mech, sent secret admirer presents, saved him from the Decepticions, Ah fragging bring him energon every day! Make sure he recharges and even make 'im socialize. Sang love songs around 'im, Ah've done _everything_!"

Mirage actually winced this time as faceplates met table once again. But he had found something to work with. 

"Have you let him directly _know_ of your feelings?" 

There was a pause, Jazz unmoving. Slowly, almost sheepishly, the saboteur rose to meet the master spy's gaze. 

"… No?"

Mirage really didn't wish to have an affair with the table's surface, not with how 'devote' is was toward Jazz. But the desire was there nonetheless. 

Contenting himself with a long sigh, the white and blue glared at the saboteur. "Why. Not?" He asked slowly, dangerously. So much insanity could have been spared if Jazz had simply told Prowl of his feelings. He knew Jazz liked to do things the hard way, but actually forgetting there was a very _easy_ way was outright imbecilic. 

Jazz shifted uneasily and looked anywhere but at the spy. 

"It didn't occur?" 

Mirage took deep long breaths to calm himself.

"Look at this logically. You tried everything correct?" He said finally, trying very hard to keep his voice from shaking with anger.

A nod.

"But there is one more strategy you haven't tried." Mirage said slowly. "Let Prowl know of your feelings. Preferably now, before the crew comes together and plans the perfect murder."

Jazz flinched as he gazed around the room and was met with many murderous looks and threatening gestures. Mainly from a wave of Ratchet's wrench and a whirl from Ironhide's cannons.  
  
"Alright." He said standing up. "Ah'll do it!"

Every mech in the rec. room watched as the saboteur left, a determined look on his faceplates. 

No one moved. A quick comm. to Red Alert let them all know that the hallway leading to the monitor room was clear. 

They all ran toward it. 

**000000000000**

Mirage was right; he had to stop behaving like a moron and act. Prowl had been oblivious to his courting, but now.... Ohhhh now, if he didn't get his point across with this, then Jazz was going to drag the doorwinger to Ratchet because _something_ had to be wrong with his processor!

Not bothering to knock, or to even announce his presence, the saboteur walked into Prowl's office, the Praxian looking up in surprise at the sudden entry. 

"Jazz? Is everything alright?"

The visored mech stood motionless for a moment, reinforcing his resolve and reevaluating his action plan. No mistakes would be tolerated.

Worried, Prowl got up from his chair, rounding the desk and came to stand in front of the seemingly frozen mech. 

"Jazz?"

"Prowler." He responded after a few seconds. "There's something ya really need ta know."

 

**000000000000**   
**MONITOR ROOM**

Every mech had entered the Security Officer's domain, squished together as they tried to see the monitor showing Prowl's office. Red Alert was being crushed by three frame, all desperately wanting to get a good view of the spectacle. The red and white mech's helm was sparking, glitch acting up as he felt trapped, yet a bigger part of him wanted to know what would happen as much as the rest of the crew and thus, endured.  
  
At Jazz's words, they all held their breaths and leaned even closer to the monitors. 

**00000000000  
PROWL'S OFFICE**

 

Prowl only got to raise and optic ridge in question before Jazz pounced. The saboteur crushed his lips to the Praxian's, servos coming up to run over his arms and doorwings. 

The SIC froze, feeling Jazz's glossa enthusiastically enter and explore his mouth. The saboteur moaned, servos roaming everywhere, trying to _show_ what he felt for the Praxian. After a moment of groping and kissing, Jazz pulled back. 

"Ah love you."

Twitching, Prowl crashed.

**000000000000000  
MONITOR ROOM**

"Frag it all to the pits! I'm going to deactivate him! What was he thinking!? Why didn't he jump Prowl while he was at it!? Stupid, moronic, good for nothing, fragging, _moron_!"

"I believe you already used moron."

The death glare Ratchet sent Sideswipe's way could have terminated an army. 

"Shut up you slagging malfunction! I'm going to kill Jazz so painfully he'll wish he never had _feelings_ for our SIC. Now, I'm left to put that idiot's oblivious processor's pieces back together." Still ranting and cursing up a storm, the medic left the monitor room, First Aid trailing quickly behind.

The rest of the mechs turned to look at the monitors, where Jazz was looking very much distressed and trying to find a way to wake up the Praxian. They kept watching as the medic reached the room and proceeded to bombard Jazz with what had to be his whole arsenal of wrenches, First Aid already tending to the downed tactician. 

"So… wanna place bets on how Prowl will react when he wakes?"

 

**0000000000000**

Mirage glared murderously at the saboteur currently groaning in pain on a medical berth due to several wrenches hitting his helm. 

"You're an idiot."

"Hey! You're the one that told meh ta show Prowl mah feelings!" Defended Jazz. 

"Tell. Letting him know means telling him! You know how well Prowl takes surprises! You had to be gentle and ease into it!"

"How was Ah supposed ta know what ya meant!?"

"You're the one that knows everything about Prowl! Not to sound like our tactician but; It was logical!"

Jazz groaned in frustration. 

"Never listening ta you again." He said petulantly. 

"Do as you please. But you might want to think of a way to keep Prowl from shooting you once he wakes up."

The saboteur promptly turned on his front and let his body fall limply on the berth, faceplates flat on its surface. 

And he proceeded to whine in denial. 

Mirage groaned. 


End file.
